Down the Rabbit Hole
by Iamkatieisme
Summary: Alice Carroll - a nurse at Beacon Mental Hospital - was spared the day of Ruvik's attack. Little does she know that the mad man is her best friend from childhood that was supposedly taken after "the accident." Now, Ruvik has decided to reclaim what is his to do with as he pleases. (RuvikxOC) (Under construction)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

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><p><em>Sebastian,<em>

_I know that I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but you and I both know that we need each other with all that is happening. After what transpired six months ago, our lives are in even more danger than before. People continuously tell us that we're both crazy and that none of this ever happened, but this is because we're one of the few that are still alive who are willing to admit the truth._

_I hope that this reaches you in time. The only reason I'm able to send this to you is because of my confidant. I know they're coming for me, and hopefully I'll make it out alive or they'll kill me quickly. I've said too much, so now I have to face the consequences of my actions. _

_They'll be coming for you next._

_You have questions just like I do, but my time is short and I fear that I'll never find answers. I hope that you will be the one to discover them. But there are things I know that you don't and I hope that this story that I wrote before I was taken will answer a few. I've kept it hidden in case this occasion ever arose._

_I don't know what happens next, but at least now you know that you have two people who are still on your side. We know that Ruvik is still out there. Where he is and what he is doing is a mystery, but he won't stay that way for long. I don't completely understand how he thinks even though I'm the only one remaining who was once close to him. He's unpredictable. But I do know if he finds you, Sebastian, he will kill you._

_So you better start running now._

_Wishing you the best of luck,_

_Alice_


	2. And Down She Went

**Chapter 1 - And Down She Went**

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><p>After the "incident" at Beacon Mental Hospital, my therapist thought it would be best if I wrote out my experiences. Apparently, the fact that I still refuse to talk to him about it is a sign that I "have not come to terms with the matter", and this seems to concern him; he says I shouldn't bottle everything up after what I've been through.<p>

But how can he know what I've been through? He thinks that everything that happened was a fabrication of my own mind. All of our minds. Mine, Sebastian's,…even Joseph's, and maybe even Leslie's…After everything that happened, the report's explanation was that a riot was what killed all of those patients, nurses, and doctors. The explanation for what Sebastian and I had experienced was that the trauma forced our minds to retreat into another world. For him, the explanation was that after losing both his wife and daughter, the case was too much and caused his mind to snap.

I don't pretend to understand their logic. We both saw the same things, we know that we're not crazy. There's no way that we could fabricate the exact same thing.

It's funny, I can't believe that my therapist is the same man that I used to make googley eyes at while at work…I should be bouncing off the walls and giggling like a schoolgirl with excitement about it. He's rather attractive in an understated way and around the same age as me, maybe slightly younger. His golden hair is swept back in a loose jumble of curls and his hooded, ocean blue eyes are adorned with thick, dark lashes. The only blemish he has are his thick eyebrows that tend to make him look somewhat angry though his face is relaxed. His personality is what always drew me the most to him. He is dashing with a sweet disposition. Yet, he also has a playful side and always loved to tease me while at work.

But now I look at him…and I feel nothing. When once my heart was a-flutter at the sight of him, now I feel just…empty.

And what a strange thing to think about; he and I are the only people still alive that worked at the hospital. Luckily for him, he was out that day. I never asked him why, not that it's really that important, or my business for that matter. Doctors have just as much right as any to their own privacy.

I still to this day wonder why I had to work there of all places. Why was Beacon the only place available as I searched for nursing positions that were open in Krimson City?

But I had worked there for almost ten years, and even though I wasn't happy, it was familiar. I knew the routine and had gotten quite good at it. And, in a strange way, it made me proud of myself. It showed me just how far I had come all on my own.

I worked two cashiering jobs from the moment I got out of high school to get myself through college and pay for living expenses. And even at the time I was working at Beacon I was still paying off financial aid loans. Needless to say, I didn't have parents to help me out. When I was fifteen, my parents died in a car crash; the autopsy showed that my father had a heart attack while driving and it caused their car to veer off into the ditch. My mother tried to grab the wheel and over corrected causing their car to flip and instantly killed the both of them.

But, I digress.

So, here we are now - you and I that is. My little sanctuary to completely spill my guts to. (A lovely mental image to have in my head right now.) So, I guess I should get on with it.

As cliché as it sounds, it started out as any normal day would. Though, I suppose I should tell you what the daily job of a nurse at a scandal-ridden mental hospital consists of…

I made my rounds, checking in on patients. Basically, helping out wherever I could. Once again, not saying anything about yet another "missing" patient – Mr. Harold Fowler, a 63 year old chronic schizophrenic who loved to grab the female nurses inappropriately. Believe me, I learned my lesson the last time. I happened to ask one day what had happened to a patient that was newly admitted – Kelli Randal, a 15 year old sufferer of split personality disorder and chronic depression. Apparently, she would become so violent that her parents had no choice but to admit her. I had been working with her quite frequently, but one day I came to her room and she was nowhere to be found. In fact, her room was vacant. When I asked a doctor about what had happened, I was threatened with not only losing my job, but never being able to be employed again.

To say that I despised that place is an understatement.

Up until 6:45 pm, things were going fine. Boringly normal even.

Until the ringing started.

It was faint at first; like maybe the speakers from the intercom were giving feedback, which wasn't unusual considering the dated technology in the mansion style hospital. I thought nothing of it and continued on with my paperwork. But the feedback grew louder and more dominant until it seeped into the mind and burrowed itself inside, scratching and clawing away until you felt like you would die from the excruciating pain. I covered my ears in a desperate attempt to muffle the noise, but to no avail. It remained constant, and I soon realized I had dropped to my knees on the floor.

Suddenly, the noise was gone, and the only sounds I could hear were screams of utmost terror and gags as throats were slit outside the little room I was located in. Bodies dropped onto the floor from all directions. Blood splattered onto the walls, and even onto the single window I could see out of on the other side of the room. I scrambled to hide under the desk, pulling the chair in front of me to provide some sort of concealment. I watched as terrified faces dashed back and forth down the hallway to flee from whatever was causing the massacre, only to soon meet the same demise.

_God, help me._

Tears of absolute fright welled up into my eyes as I tried to stifle my crying. I knew the best thing I could do was stay quiet. My heart pounded in my chest, filling my ears with the jagged beat. My breathing seemed to match my heart rate, and with each inhale I felt the sickening anxiety grow inside as I waited for the door to burst open and the killer to find me.

_I'm going to die._

Suddenly, everything grew silent. The only other sound to be heard was the constant drip of blood that trickled down onto the tile floor. I sat for what felt like years, listening for any indication of the killer. After hearing no sign of life, I dared to crawl out from under the desk. With shaky legs, I slowly stood to peer out the window beside the door into the hallway.

Blood splatters seemed to blanket every inch of the corridor. The bloodied corpses of my coworkers were strewn here and there as if they were dolls thrown carelessly by a small child.

I was repulsed and reduced to tears at the sight.

Running only on pure adrenaline, I was unable to think clearly. I was hyperventilating. All I knew was that I had to get out of there. Fast. So, I carefully opened the door to the hallway and peeked around both sides of the door frame to see if the coast was clear. With no one in sight, I made my way out – one shaky step at a time.

I tip-toed to the main entrance, stepping over mutilated bodies and shoving wheelchairs and gurneys out of my way. Once I reached the double doors I gently pushed them open, revealing the extent of the massacre.

All of those once familiar faces just laid there completely lifeless, almost unrecognizable in their current state. Doctors, nurses, and patients all lay dead in their own pools of still warm crimson. Each victim expressed a look of pure, unadulterated horror on their face. Some still sat upright in the cushioned chairs of the sitting area, while a couple fell limp at my passing. One corpse of a patient even held a picture book in his right hand. Tables were turned over on their sides as well as one of the many faux bushes located inside the entry. Blood was splattered all over the walls and the floor.

The steady dripping of the crimson liquid that was sprayed onto the only actual living plant, roped off in the very center of the room, was the only sound to be heard.

Shakily, I crept over bodies one at a time to make my way to the receptionist's desk phone to call 911. With each step, I landed in the sticky liquid that stained my white tennis shoes red.

I arrived at the desk, and gently pushed the dead receptionist's cold hand away from the phone to use it. I don't remember dialing the phone, but apparently the call went through because of the amount of KCPD officers that came later. The main thing I remember is the feeling of a hand on my shoulder that spun me around, the phone still clutched in my left.

I remember glowing grey eyes, almost white, that were intense with anger and utter hatred. They studied me, and for a split second, I could swear I saw them widen with recognition. The scalpel he gripped in his right hand stopped mid-air before it could slice at my jugular.

"Alice," he whispered.

I spoke not a word after my name left his lips. In my shocked state, I succumbed to whatever fate he decided for me; for all I knew, this would be the end of me. But little did I know that my journey was only beginning.

Next thing I knew, everything went black.


	3. Fall, Fall

**Chapter 2 - Fall, Fall**

You know it's funny, when I pictured the afterlife I always imagined what I would think everyone imagines Heaven like. Angels floating on fluffy white clouds with little golden halos above their heads singing some foreign yet beautiful, harmonious melody that would make you break down and cry just from the sheer glory of it. But when I opened my eyes, expecting to be greeted by little cherubs playing golden harps, I could swear I woke up in Hell.

An extremely vivid, white light greeted me, causing me to have to shield my eyes from the intensity. Once they adjusted, I discovered I was lying in a small, brightly lit room and laying on the hard, tile floor of the hospital. I placed my hand on the ground to support me as I propped up to look around, feeling the cool touch of the tile against my fingertips. As I rose, I felt the sharp pain of a migraine coming on and quickly went to massage the area, but nothing seemed to ease it.

As I looked about the room, I noticed the various hospital blinds that lined the walls. A metal desk to my right contained miscellaneous medical books and bottles of medicine. There was a medicine cabinet that held other bottles of medicines to its right, and on its left was a file drawer with a small rolling table blocking the very front of it. The room itself was disgusting from decay, filth, and what appeared to be abandonment. But somehow I knew that this was still Beacon Mental Hospital, just aged from lack of maintenance.

_How long was I out?_

Suddenly, I began to hear a roar coming from somewhere behind me. Not eager to find out the root of the noise, I quietly made my way to the door in front of me. I clutched the silver handle and turned, the door eerily creaked as it opened.

Off I went into the great unknown, taking feeble steps through the doorway and into the long stretch of corridor outside. Abandoned wheelchairs and gurneys were scattered about the hall; I carefully maneuvered my way around them in order to not attract any attention with unneeded noise. There at the end of the hall was my ticket to freedom – the gated elevator that seemed so far away.

I turned around and watched as a man at the very end of the hallway came limping my direction as quickly as he could, struggling with each step. He forcefully shoved the wheelchairs out of his way and speedily rolled over the gurney. I stood dumbfounded at what lumbered after him.

A behemoth of a man, if he could even be called that, completely covered head to toe in blood chased after him. With an equally bloody, rusty chainsaw in hand, I soon realized the source of the roaring noise. His face was concealed by a muzzle that covered all of the lower portion of his face, save for his beady, white eyes. He wore an old, dirty wife-beater that looked as if it hadn't been washed in years, broken manacles around his wrists, and sported a spiky dog collar around his gigantic neck. Ungodly growls and roars erupted from behind the muzzle.

Quickly, I smashed the button for the door to open. Once it was, I took no chance and immediately hopped inside the car. The man and the monster were nearing me.

"Get in!" I yelled as I ushered the injured man inside.

He dived inside, landing on his side. Almost as if on cue, the gate closed and we rode the elevator to the lobby,.

He then proceeded to scoot himself until he was leaning against the back wall of the elevator car; I soon copied his action. Both panting, we sat in silence until we reached the first floor. In those brief few seconds, I took the time to study him.

He wasn't bad looking, rather handsome even. Well, I mean, he would've looked better if he hadn't been covered in sweat, dirt, and blood. His jet black hair was slicked back yet tousled from the run-in he had with the chainsaw wielding maniac, but still somehow managed to stay somewhat neat. He had a manly, gritty stubble that further added to his rugged masculinity. His eyes were a shade of dark amber that made his gaze seem imperious and penetrating, aloof even, yet were spellbinding me with every glance in my direction.

His sharp cheekbones complimented his flinty, angular jaw. He had an air of dominance and debonaire. He sported a well-worn, yet stylish getup: a sleek black vest that hugged his muscular physique, a ¾ sleeve shirt that tightened at the muscles of his biceps and was partially unbuttoned at the top, just enough to see a peek of dark chest hair, and an askew red tie.

Alright, I'll fully admit that I thought he was hot. But soon, I noticed the wedding band on his left ring finger and any hopes I had in that moment were dashed.

The gate opened, and I realized I had been staring at him nonstop for the past twenty seconds.

"Thanks," he uttered awkwardly, still out of breath from the run in with the sadist.

Before I knew it, he was already out and limping toward the door at the end of the hall.

"N-no problem," I called after him timidly.

I followed after, not even thinking about what I was doing or where I was going. The fact that this was a living human being who didn't want to end my life was incentive enough for me to want to stick close by.

"You're hurt!" I cried at the visual reminder of his limp.

"Really?" he replied sarcastically, "Hadn't noticed."

Though he struggled, he was still fast enough that I had to speed up to catch him.

"I'm a nurse. When we get to safety, I can help attend to your leg-"

Suddenly, the hall began to quake around us. The ceiling began to crumble and the glass from the windows shattered. I instinctively grabbed on to the back of his vest to keep myself up, which resulted in us both falling on the floor. I landed on top of one of the police officers that laid dead on the ground, letting out a small scream at the realization.

He groaned, then got back up on his feet. I felt a hand grab my white nurse's uniform and drag me back up to my own. After I was settled, the man limped as fast as he could down the hallway.

"C'mon!" he called back to me.

I soon followed closely behind while we dodged falling debris and bolted through the lobby until we made it out the main door.

We stopped and watched as skyscrapers crumbled and plummeted to the ground. The earth opened into a gigantic chasm that sent cars, street lamps, buildings, and all kinds of various city structures deep into the unknown never to be seen again. Fires broke out in the distance and smoke rose high, turning the once blue sky to a shade of deep grey. It was nothing short of a catastrophe, the beginning of an apocalyptic world.

Next, an ambulance raced towards us backwards, hitting the car to its right and narrowly missing falling within the abyss itself. The officer inside called out to the man with me.

"Detective! Get in! Get in!"

Glass from the windows of the hospital shattered above us, and we narrowly dodged being hit. The ground cracked beneath the ambulance, attempting to swallow it whole, but the man inside sent it forward in enough time to avoid falling in.

The detective and I full out sprinted to catch up to the vehicle. He jumped in through the window and as soon as he was in, grabbed my hand and yanked me in with him. I uncomfortably landed in his lap.

Up ahead, we plowed through the hospital gate causing a collective cry from the sudden force.

"Hey, where's Joseph?" the detective asked the police officer driving.

"Hey man, sorry but he never came out! I waited but – uh," was his only reply.

I saw the detective's face turn even darker, and he whispered a curse.

"Please, settle down, Leslie," I heard a familiar voice try to soothe the unseen patient behind me as he repeated the phrase like a mantra. Then I realized who the voices belonged to.

"Dr. Jimenez? Leslie?" I called back to them.

Buildings behind us continued to crumble as the chasm attempted to swallow us whole.

The police officer cursed as he watched from his rearview mirror.

"There's no going back."

My carsickness was quickly rearing its ugly head, and the fact that the vehicle swerved as the police officer dodged debris and falling buildings, was not helping it to get any better. So, I closed my eyes, covered them with my hands, and bowed my head hoping that it might ease the nausea I was feeling. Believe me, the last thing I needed right then was to throw up in a hot guy's lap.

So, finally, when things seemed to calm down somewhat, I re-opened my eyes. We were going in to a tunnel.

The detective turned on the radio and cursed at the silence he received.

"Are we cut off from everyone?"

"Everyone must be dead," the officer replied.

I looked at him and immediately tears began to fill my eyes.

It hit me all at once. He was right. There was no way that anyone could have survived all of that. I had lost everyone I cared about in one day. Not only that, I lost my home, my job, everything…It was all gone, just like that.

We all lost everything.

From the look in his eyes, I knew the detective was thinking it to.

"Everyone alright back there?" he called back.

"Just a few bumps. We're fine," a female voice replied, which thoroughly surprised me because I definitely didn't remember hearing a female voice.

That's when Leslie started repeating "Fine…fine…."to himself over and over again.

"We will be once we're far away," Dr. Jimenez added.

"A little further and we'll be fine," the detective also added.

That's when he looked up in the rearview mirror and stopped. I happened to look up at just the right time and witnessed what caused his sudden change from composure to confusion. A tall, sharply featured man in a torn, hole ridden, white hood stood completely upright in the back, right corner of the ambulance appearing to stare down at Leslie. What visible skin he had was a light pale shade of almost white; the rest, from his head to his uncovered toes, was severely and grotesquely burned. The memory of white-grey eyes piercing into mine flashed through my mind, and a few of the pieces of the intricate puzzle began to connect together in my mind. I had met this white-hooded man back at the hospital.

I watched as the detective whipped around to look in the back of the ambulance only to find nothing there.

"You saw him too?" I asked.

He looked down at me and I saw his eyes widen slightly at the realization that he hadn't been the only one to lay witness to the man.

The radio began give feedback, much like the kind I heard while at the hospital. The volume of it continuously increased with each passing second.

"Fall, fall!" Leslie repeated.

The vehicle went out of control as we hit the side of the concrete tunnel. I once again closed my eyes, only catching a brief glimpse of the officer's transformation from man to living cadaver as I buried my face into the detective's shoulder. Not my finest decision, I know, but what was a girl to do?

The last thing I remember is exactly what Leslie had warned us about – falling.

And fall we did.


	4. Revelation

**Chapter 3 - Revelation**

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><p>Yet again, when I came to I was in a place that was much different from where I remembered being when I was knocked unconscious. Already, I growing quite perturbed at the idea of this becoming a regular occurrence.<p>

In fact, I was pissed off at the idea.

Slowly I sat up and rubbed the back of my aching neck, wincing as I pressed in on the strained area. Thankfully, the sharp migraine that I had experienced earlier had faded into a dull headache, which was much more tolerable. With heavy eyes, I observed my surroundings; I knew I was outside at what seemed to be either early morning or late evening judging from the dark sky above me. In my mind, I vaguely recalled an ambulance and a very handsome detective, but neither were anywhere to be found.

The orange glow of the small fire that burned near where I sat gave only limited visibility, but enough to see the abundance of trees and other various plants that decorated the area, along with a what appeared to be a dirt road. Despite the crackling of the dancing flames and the chirping of insects, my surroundings appeared to be quiet. But from this information I gathered that I was in a forest, or a forest-like area.

I stood to my feet and attempted to brush the dust and grime off of my white nurse's uniform with little success. The little matching cap I usually donned was officially gone, and I definitely didn't miss it. I had always wondered why we were required to wear the old, outdated dresses and caps, but passed it off as a way of pacifying the patients need for familiarity and routine. Those that had been at the hospital since the time that they were traditionally worn wouldn't have responded well to the sudden change to scrubs. But nonetheless, I did secretly continue to wish that something would be done about it.

With no desire to stay put, I carefully walked as quietly as I could down the dirt path before me. In my gut, something felt very strange about this place and I was not looking forward to finding out what was hidden in the darkness.

The road seemed as if it hadn't been used in years. Tall, hip-high grass had completely taken over, save what was left of the old road. Trees seemed to engulf the surrounding area, giving only a glimpse of the full moon on the other side. The entire area reeked of death, causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust; I gagged and covered my nose and mouth to keep from vomiting. Abandoned farm equipment and tools were scattered here and there around me.

In the distance, I spotted a small house along with a lone person up ahead. I carefully approached, grabbing the first thing I could find – a large, rust covered handheld scythe – to defend myself if needed. At this point, I knew the best strategy was to expect the unexpected.

"Sir?" I called out dubiously.

The man, seeming to be struggling, was doubled over while clutching at his head. He muttered incoherent words while his whole body seemed to writhe in agony. Suddenly, his demeanor changed and he slowly dropped his hands from his head. With an alarming growl, he turned to face my direction, revealing a split open face and two beady, white eyes.

The dead creature charged, and I had little time to react. I miraculously recalled what few times I had watched The Walking Dead and remembered that the key was to aim for the head. So, I swung as hard as my weak arms possibly could to hack away. The small scythe was firmly planted in the head of the zombie. Brain matter and blood spewed in all directions, most of it landing on my dress and face.

I spit out what had gotten into my mouth, emptying my stomach in the process. With shaking knees, I collapsed on the ground and cried at my misfortune.

As the tears fell, I experienced a new kind of loneliness that I had never felt before. I felt isolation that bordered utter despair, even more so than after the death of my parents. At least I had my grandparents to help me at the time to deal with the grief, but at that moment I had no one. Even if they would have still been alive, there was no way of reaching them. I didn't even know where I was, or if I would ever make it home.

As I sat there softly crying, with arms tightly wrapped around myself, I accepted that this was my end. Death was immanent, and for me I could only imagine that it would come quite soon. In fact, I embraced the idea. I was tired of running, of being afraid; I didn't want to go on this way.

It was sad - and stupid of me, I'll admit - but true.

Little did I know, that my savior from my inner turmoil would come in the form of a white haired young man who was huddled under a tree very near to where I sat, murmuring a quiet mantra to himself.

"Leslie?" I softly called to him as I wiped the tears from my puffy, red eyes.

The sound of my voice seemed to somewhat wake him and he turned his head to look in my direction.

As a nurse, I was in and out with many different patients, but I continuously requested to work more with Leslie Withers, even though it fell on deaf ears. The poor boy had experienced a hard life and much betrayal; as a result, he had grown to have many trust issues. He was abandoned as a small child and had been repeatedly used in inhumane tests at his previous hospital. For as long as I knew him, if left alone, he would just stare out the window of his room waiting for the family that would never come back.

I tried my hardest to show him that he could trust me, and it seemed to work. He always brightened up a little when I came to visit, and at times, it seemed I was the only one who really took care of him. He never slept (as shown by the horrible dark purple circles under his eyes), hardly ever ate, and was never cleaned unless I made sure of it. Not to mention his chipped teeth and bare feet.

He stared at me with palpable fear in his teary eyes. I attempted to smile at him to calm him down, but I'm sure the fact that I had just been crying – and most certainly looked like it – wasn't a very reassuring sight. I slowly walked over to him and knelt down beside him.

"Hey, everything is gonna be alright," I said in a soothing voice, while gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll protect you. Okay?"

"Okay..okay…okay," he repeated.

I smiled at him a little more.

"That's right. You want to hold my hand?" I asked as I offered it to him.

He accepted, and I slowly stood back up pulling him with me.

"Let's go."

We walked a good half a mile together hand-in-hand, passing by old decaying buildings. Leslie still whimpering to himself while I softly shushed him soothingly. I was probably just as equally afraid as he was, but I couldn't let him know that.

Suddenly, a banging noise erupted from behind one of the doors of the old shack to our right. The door burst open and another undead, barbed wire covered creature stood on the other side of it. With this, Leslie let go of my hand and bolted off on his own.

"Leslie!" I desperately called after him. I didn't want to leave him, but I couldn't chase after him just yet. First, I had to take care of the haunted.

I swung and hacked at him, repeating the same thing that happened the last time. Once again, I was a complete mess, covered in bodily fluids and matter. Paying no mind in my panicked state, I immediately rushed to find Leslie.

But much to my chagrin, I hit a dead end.

A horde of the decaying creatures blocked my path. Luckily, I wasn't spotted. And with no way around in sight, I stealthily creeped over to a nearby shack. When I made my way over to the door, I knocked on it to see if anything would stir from within. With no response, I slowly opened it and slid inside.

I took a good look around the used-to-be tool shed. It was obviously old and looked as if it could collapse at any time. A portion of the wall to the right was falling apart, exposing the cool breeze that whistled through the air. After searching through the many supplies inside, I happened across a handgun and a few spare bullets in the tool box below the wall of various tools.

"Thank God," I sighed, smiling in relief to myself. Though I hadn't used a gun in a very long time, and hoped I would never have to use one again, it was a welcome sight in this chaos.

Almost immediately after loading it, I heard electronic feedback as the marred man glitched into existence right behind me. I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. I aimed my gun at him, ready to fire. Without even lifting a finger, he sent it flying all the way to the other side of the small building. I was backed into a corner with no way of escape.

"W-who are you? W-what do you want from m-me?" I sputtered, failing to keep my voice from wavering. I was determined that I could not show the fear that was so prevalent inside, but my efforts would prove futile. I pressed myself even farther back into the wall for support and clung to it in a desperate attempt to stop myself from shaking. My heart hammered inside of my chest causing heavy pounding in my ears.

He stalked close enough for me to feel his breath lightly sweep my face with each exhale. The burned ends of his white, tattered robe gently brushed my thigh with the slight breeze. I forced myself to continue looking into those pale, glowing, grey eyes that never seemed to cease haunting me. A brief flicker of some strange emotion escaped him before returning to his normal, hardened manner. And once again, I couldn't quite distinguish what it was. What struck me was that, despite his close proximity, I felt no body heat that would radiate from a normal individual. In fact, I could swear that he felt cold, almost like that of a corpse.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me, Ali." His voice was calm as he emphasized the pet name given to me at the age of six.

'How could he possibly know about that? I've never met this man before…Or have I?' I thought.

My mind instantly flashed back to a huge field of sunflowers. A young boy, tall for his age, and about two years older than I with sad grey eyes and board straight, platinum blonde hair. An older girl – hauntingly beautiful with what seemed to be an ever-smiling face and long black hair that flowed down to her waist. Playing hide and seek in an old wooden barn filled with hay. Playing tag. Laughing together. Things I hadn't quite forgotten, but hadn't thought about in many years.

The young boy was someone I would sneak out of the house to play with when my parents didn't need help on the farm – my refuge when things became too hard for me to handle. I happened across him while exploring the pasture that used to belong to us. As a child, it didn't matter to me that the Victoriano family had bought out the land and my family didn't own it anymore. In fact, I wanted to go find out just who these people were.

He was strange, slightly disturbed even, but I liked him and enjoyed his company. He confided in me about his gruesome experiments on animals and the discoveries he made. Though I thought they were absolutely disgusting, it was fun to watch his sad, haunted eyes suddenly sparkle with excitement as he told me.

He also spoke of his parents reproach of them, and the sometimes almost abusive nature his father displayed towards him. He was a rather stern man, and held strongly to his belief in the corrupted church the family was a part of; as a result, these beliefs caused him to feel some disdain towards Ruben. I was aware of he and his father's strained relationship, but at times it seemed that he was embarrassed to even have him as a son.

And though he was the weird, rich boy who lived a whole pasture away from me, I loved him. He was my best friend, and I knew he at least enjoyed my company. Not to mention that in my six year old mind, it made me feel pretty cool to have a best friend who was a whole two years older than me.

He hadn't actually grown up around children remotely close to his own age until me. The closest to him was Laura, his sister, though there was a good seven year age gap. Their relationship was so unlike most siblings. Laura had been his best friend and playmate since birth. She and I were the only ones who had ever taken the time to try to understand him.

I remembered the day, probably not even a month after I met them, that I announced in my childish innocence that I was going to marry him, which I was adamant about even until his death two years later. I saw both pairs of eyes widen. Then, Laura tried and failed to stifle her giggling. He, on the other hand, groaned and tried to hide his blush.

So, I stared deeply into the grey eyes that bored into mine. They had aged over twenty-five years. Had grown darker. Harsher. Full of bitter anger and hatred, like someone who had seen more than his fare share of pain in his lifetime. But they were his eyes, nonetheless.

"R-Ruben?" I whispered with a quivering voice, eyes growing wide at the realization.

With this, he backed away slightly.

"No. Not anymore."

"Wait," I began. "This can't be right. Ruben died with Laura in the fire when I was eight-" I stopped at the revelation that the burns were from that same fire.

"Oh god." I raised a shaking hand to my mouth as it all sank in.

"And do you know who told everyone those lies? My own father." His voice was deep and dark, yet stayed fairly calm. His bloodshot eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. With flared nostrils, his jaw momentarily tightened.

"After the fire," he began, "he locked me in the basement for six years. Even going so far as to keep me a secret from my mother because he was too ashamed of the disfigurements." His marred hands formed into tightened fists at his sides. "He couldn't stand to look at me. I was no longer his son. To him, I was a monster that needed to be caged. 'Out of sight, out of mind.'"

His voice and appearance grew even more bitter. "The sanctimonious fool even lied to me. Told me that she was in a better place when, in fact, she lay unconscious in a hospital bed. And I knew it, too. I knew that she wasn't dead, though he insisted otherwise."

I blinked, unable to fully take in the magnitude of the words."Both of you were alive this whole time," I quietly whispered to myself.

As he spoke, my heart felt as if it dropped in my chest. All of those years, my best friend had been alive and suffering for years at the hands of his father. Emotions that I assumed were completely gone but had been repressed for over twenty-five years resurfaced; in that moment I couldn't help but tear up at the thought of the boy he used to be. Once so innocent, now broken and scarred – deformed by madness.

Though I was absolutely terrified, a small part of me wanted to reach out to him in some way, but I knew not how. I opened my mouth to say something; in the end, I decided against it and chose not to speak. What was there to say?

I tried to read him, to see any tell that he might be deceiving me, but his stony expression betrayed nothing. All of the evidence that I needed was right there in front of me.

My widened eyes darted to the ground and lips parted, allowing me to release the breath I had been holding. I blinked the warm tears away and tried to regain some sort of composure. Yet again, he stepped a little closer and looked down to study my face for a few brief seconds. I knew that he could see my conflicted emotions.

"You've hardly changed at all. Same red hair, green eyes,…freckles. I always thought they suited you well," he confessed, eyes dancing around at each feature mentioned. He still maintained his expressionless demeanor.

I was speechless.

"I created this world, therefore I will keep you here if I choose. The others, however," he drawled, voice low and smooth," will not remain. I suggest that you do not seek them out."

"What do you mean?" I squeaked in a whisper. I knew that this was some type of warning, but I couldn't quite comprehend just what he held in-store for us.

_Does he mean to kill them? _

As he stepped even closer, he dropped his stoic behavior.

"Now, you're mine again." A faint smile formed at his scarred, cracked lips before his mouth returned to the expressionless line that it was before. "And I won't lose you too."

And with that, he was gone.

Alone yet again, I dropped to my knees not even wincing at the sudden pain of landing on solid concrete, and allowed the impact of the revelation to overtake me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks to RainDancerXx for helping me! ^^**


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